


The Angel and The Madcap (Complete)

by SheepWrites



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, F/F, Lesbian Character, Trans Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Trans Character, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheepWrites/pseuds/SheepWrites
Summary: Assigned to work with the mad scientist Moira O'deorain, Mercy is in for a few surprises.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters for this one are going to be pretty short, but hopefully there'll be enough of them to make a full fic.

1: Tasked

Overwatch research facility near Zurich, 11:36 am - 

What a day this was shaping up to be….

Papers rustled and a ballpoint pen fell to the floor as Dr. Angela Ziegler picked up a pile of research notes. The pages and pages of dense biometrics and calculations would need to be copied and sent to her coworkers with Overwatch’s (and the Swiss government’s) science advancement departments. These studies would probably save hundreds of lives, hopefully improving thousands more, and she knew her work was for the good of the world, but right now, Dr. Ziegler was tired. It had been a long day of testing, testing, taking down numbers and testing again. At least now she could ship these results off and relax for a few hours, maybe even sleep a little.

Holding the stack of paper in one hand, she strode to the window of her cluttered office, looking out over the European countryside that sprawled for miles around. It was pretty, dense with trees and plants, but the sea of deep greens and browns was interrupted every few miles with research buildings and courtyards of renovated estates. Orange afternoon sun arced over everything, and though it looked bright outside, the Swiss doctor knew it was bitterly cold. Angela sighed. Sometimes she wondered if this work with these big organizations was even worth it...She could easily quit and go teach at a high-brow university in England or the states. That would be easier, right? Less of moving all these obnoxious numbers all over the place. The schools would be dying to have her, of course. They’d fight and squabble over each other for the best pay rates, living conditions, insurance, benefits. But, despite all that possibility, Angela knew her talent was much more needed here, on the front lines of biomedical advances, where she would have the most direct impact on the studies being done to help the soldiers and victims of the war. She was known throughout the world for her prowess in biochemistry, her innovation in medical tech, and, though she pretended not to notice or here of it, her beauty. 

Angela Ziegler was a sight to behold, slender and quaint at first glance, but under the loose drape of her perpetual lab coat, she had a shape that would make even the most hardened of German military heads, or supposedly cold cybernetically enhanced soldiers, look twice. Her waist was thinner than most women her age, and her hips were full enough to be noticed under the lab coat even when she was standing. Her lab coat may have cloaked her shape when at work here in Zurich or the facilities in Egypt or London, but she relished the opportunities she had to don her form-fitting combat medic suit, with it’s golden wings, leaving sparkling trails as she flew through danger to where she was needed, energy staff or sidearm already flaring in her grip. These moments were less frequent now, but each time she was able to leave the loose calm of the lab for the excitement of tight situations and life-saving, she felt rejuvenated. She smiled, remembering her original suit, blue and white with grey trim, for the King’s Row emergency. Her hair, then hanging down to her lower back, had streamed out from under the white nurse’s cap, whipping around through her flight drawing many an eye, from robot and human alike. Now, her pale yellow hair hung mostly straight, but she usually had it tucked up in a ponytail with just a few locks hanging down over the side of her face, providing a pretty frame for her soft features, smooth, pink lips and sparkling blue eyes that always seemed to catch the light in just the right way. She often caught her her assistants, coworkers and even bosses stealing looks, and though she pretended she never saw, she enjoyed the attention immensely. She’d never been confident about herself throughout her education, and the validation she felt from the hungry looks she received was welcome. 

Sometimes she suspected that she might have landed her huge research grants, her board positions, maybe even her position as head of surgery at the hospital in Zurich, due to her stunning looks. She knew she was plenty qualified, having spent years in school and training, and earning multiple degrees, and she knew she was capable. But had she not looked the way she did, she might have lost out to someone who was more talented than herself, or more male. There were plenty of prodigies these days, that was for sure. If she abandoned her posts at the hospital and university, went to some teaching position she could cruise through to retirement… 

No. That wasn’t for her. That wasn’t Angela. Dr. Ziegler was smart, snappy, put together. She knew what she wanted to know and she knew how to find it out. That’s why she did her job so well.

-Bzzzt-  
Angela’s mobile buzzed its way right off the side of her desk, clattering to the floor. She jumped at the sudden noise, and then sighed in relief seeing the name on the phone’s display.  
Amari, Ana  
Ana’s calls were always calm, if not comforting, and in the stressful world of Overwatch’s covert action and her research and surgery work in Zurich piled on her, the older woman’s level, smooth voice and lilting Egyptian arabic accent always put her at ease. Reaching down, she grabbed the phone from the floor. After taking a deep breath and a sip of the day-old black tea on her desk, hopefully steadying her voice to sound professional, she hit the “answer” prompt and lifted the phone to her ear.  
“Hello, Captain.”  
“Good morning, Angela.”  
The doctor smiled at the use of her first name, a sign of familiarity she had not been expecting from her military superior.  
“What have you got for me today?” Dr. Ziegler asked, every syllable measured to maintain composure. Even after all these years, she still wasn’t used to working with her childhood idols in the field. The starstruck feeling still found its way back to her every once and while, and her celebrity crush on Captain Amari hadn’t really faded with the years either, as strange as that sounded to her now.  
“I’ll be honest, doctor. I don’t think you’re going to like this one.”  
“I’m sure I can handle whatever you need. Fire away, captain.”  
“Please, call me Ana.”  
Mercy stifled a happy giggle. “Of course capt- Ana. Tell me what to do, where to be, and I’ll do it.”  
“Alright. We’re stretched thin on resources right now, and we need an answer to the Omnic pressure in the Dublin area. The forest is overrun and the people are in very direct danger. Luckily, we made contact with a former agent who happened to be there, who is a very talented scientist. Much like yourself.”  
“So, what’s the catch?”  
“She’s a bit of a loose cannon. We need you there to back her up, and keep a close eye on her and what she might do with our technology and money.”  
“I’ll do my best. And tell me, Ana, what might be her name?”  
The old captain sighed, pausing for a second. 

“Moira. Moira O’deorain. I’m sure you’re familiar.”  
Angela started. Her? They hired O’Deorain? The madcap who was responsible for the Reyes experiment? Killed at least a hundred in the Rialto debacle? Had to turn to Talon because her work was too extreme and dangerous? What were Jack and Ana thinking? God, this was a ter-  
“So, Angela?”  
She hadn’t realized how lost she was in her own thoughts. She sighed again, running a hand down her face.  
“Of course. I’ll fly out as soon as possible.”  
“Excellent. I have full confidence in you, and the people in Ireland need a reassuring face.”  
“I’ll be there, you can count on me, Ana.”  
“Thank you. Call me if you need any help, military or otherwise.”  
“I’ll be sure to let you know. Have a good d-”  
“And don’t forget a coat, it’s bitterly cold out there this time of year.”  
This elicited a real giggle from the doctor. Ana couldn’t seem to turn off her motherly instincts, even in a professional setting.  
…  
…  
Hot, honestly.  
“I’ll make sure to bring one.”  
“Good. Good luck, Angela.”  
“You too, Ana.”  
And with that the line clicked dead. Dr. Ziegler stacked her notes and calculations on the side of her desk, left a note for her assistant to send them to the proper people, with the proper clearance, and went to pack her bag.


	2. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anxious Angela arrives at an academic area. Upon meeting with O'deorain, she realizes she may be in for more than she bargained for.

2: Mercy

\--3 days later, Dublin. Overwatch research facility--

Angela Ziegler stepped out of the plated cruiser and onto the cobblestone road in front of the Overwatch building. Pulling her faux fur coat close around her shoulders, she stepped carefully over the rain-slick stones and up to the door.  
It didn’t open.

She considered knocking, but the door was steel and nearly a foot thick. It wouldn’t have done much good.  
So she waited, glancing down at her outfit and wondering if it was professional enough. Probably. A yellow-gold pencil dress, brought back from a trip to China, her favorite headband, hair in its usual style, and thigh high socks that, hidden under the dress, simply looked like leggings. Her makeup was subtle, but present, and her nails had been freshly painted (she kept them short, of course, but the sapphire blue polish was striking, beautiful even in small quantities). 

The door slid open in a mechanical whir of motors and metal, revealing an empty entrance corridor illuminated by fluorescent panels in the ceiling and at the edges of the hall. Dr. Ziegler stepped in and walked down the hall towards the elevator she knew would be off to the left. Every Overwatch facility was designed the same- The same organization, floor plan, even color scheme. 

Stepping into the elevator, she keyed in the access code for the top floor (2481-C) and took a deep breath as the door closed and the numbers on the digital display began to climb.  
1- O’deorain?  
2- Was she really going to speak to that woman again? Could she? The woman was mad, a menace to the organization and the world.  
3- Maybe she’d just pull her favorite sidearm on the brazen, redhead scientist and let her bleed out. It’d be a favor to the world. And it wouldn’t be the first time…  
4- No. She couldn’t do that- She had a job to do, people to save, and if Captain Amari- Ana, said O’deorain was the one they needed, then she’d do the job she was sent here to do.  
5- She’d have to be careful though. If the Irish genius was going to work with Overwatch and its considerable resources, there was no doubt she’d have her own plan behind the scenes.  
6- No matter. She would see this through to the end. Angela Ziegler never once abandoned an assignment.  
7- Maybe she was psyching herself out? O’deorain couldn’t possibly be as bad as she remembered. Age had to have taken its toll on the fiery, rebellious, downright lunatic spirit she’d known in her early career. She must have gotten older, wiser, more responsible.  
8- What did she even look like now? She wouldn’t be wearing the Blackwatch uniform anymore...Couldn’t have her fiery hair tucked up inside the beret with that cursed insignia on it...Well, she’d find out soon enough.  
9- Close now, deep breath, girl.  
10- Ok. Here we go.  
The doors hissed open and Dr. Ziegler stepped out of the elevator, head held high, shoulders back, heels clicking against the tiled floor, trying to exude as much composure and confidence as possible in the face of the unknown. Her eyes quickly scanned left and right, taking in the array of the top floor. Perhaps, she thought to herself, top room would be more apt. Penthouse, perhaps. It appeared O’deorain had converted the entire floor into her personal space. Looking forward, she saw the face of the woman she’d never thought she’d see, or ever wanted to see, again. Seated at the desk, back straight, hands clasped in front of her face, and the slightest hint of a grin playing at her lips, the mystery woman glanced up at the Swiss doctor.  
Angela started. O’deorain was...Gorgeous.  
Stunning.  
Handsome? Beautiful?  
Dressed in a deep purple suit, with sharp shoulders, a deep neck and sleeves that widened just at her wrists, her nails long and sharp like claws, green on the left and purple on the right, her flaming red hair spiked over on one side, and a metal plate obscuring a side of her face, but for the sea blue eye in the middle of it, the Irish woman was the very figure of perfect, sexy androgyny. But for the exaggerated makeup around her eyes, her shapely breasts and waist, and her perfect skin, she might have been able to pass as a man.  
Angela hadn’t thought herself to be attracted to women, but...something about the confidence it must take to present that way...the sinister grin...the claw-like nails...The allure that surrounded the mad scientist, It just-  
“Good morning, Doctor Ziegler. Pleasure to see you again.”  
The Irish scientists accent stretched the r’s in her words, extending the vowel sounds in a way Angela found positively entrancing. She almost forgot to answer back.  
“Hello, O’deorain.”  
“That’s doctor O’deorain to you.” The grin widened and a grasp of sharp purple nails clicked on the desk.  
“Yes….I suppose it is.”  
“I assume the Amari girl sent you to keep an eye on me. Can’t trust an Irish witch to do her job, can they?”  
“Captain Amari sent me to work with you, yes.”  
The fiery scientist raised an eyebrow. “And what did they propose we do?”  
“We are to find a solution to the Omnic presence in this region, and to work together on further bioscientific projects for Overwatch.”  
O’deorain chuckled softly, and though Angela tried not to show it, the sound made her a little weak. Moira was intimidating.  
“I’ll show you bioscience like you’ve never seen before, Ziegler.”  
“I’m sure you will, Doctor.”  
The nails clicked again. “There's a good girl.”  
Angela failed to hide the blush that ran to her face, her cheeks turning the color of fresh raspberries. O’deorain laughed softly again, and turned her gaze down to the intricate series of graphs and statistics holographically displayed in front of her. The room was quiet as she keyed in a few numbers, swiping left and right across multiple simulations.  
“Uhm..what should I...do, doctor?” Angela broke the silence awkwardly, still flustered at losing her composure moments ago.  
“Oh, yes. I’ve got a set of instructions for you here.” The hand with the green talons reached to the right corner of the desk, pulling a tablet from under a pile of notebooks and extending it toward Ziegler, who took it gingerly and scrolled through the dense pile of scientific instructions.  
“Are you sure we’re cleared to do these? These experiments seem...extravagant.”  
“Do you want to solve our robot problem? This is my ship now, so you’d do best to follow your instructions, doctor.”  
Ziegler bit her lip, calculating. Was it worth it to trust this mad genius? Did she know something Ana and the rest of Overwatch didn’t? Was she risking her career? Did her career even matter? What if they found something really important? The sake of the world, and it’s people, should come before her personal history with O’deorain, and if Ana thought she’d make a valuable contribution, then she should.  
“Of course, doctor. I’ll begin promptly.”  
“Good. You’ll be on the seventh floor, lab 13. I’m sure you’ll appreciate the view.”  
“Thank you, doctor.” She turned and started back towards the elevator.  
The self-described witch smiled again. “I’ll be seeing you soon to check up on results. Ádh mór, Mercy.”  
Angela Ziegler froze.  
It had been a long time since anyone had said that name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be next week! (ish)


	3. 3: A Brief Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of her heavy workload, Dr. O'deorain pays Angela an unexpected visit.

\--Overwatch Facility, Floor 7, Dublin. 7:14 pm--  
The sun was beginning to set in the distance outside the Overwatch lab. Doctor Angela Ziegler looked out through the full length windows she stood in front of, gazing at the Dublin skyline. She admired the outlines of the buildings against the rosy sky for just a few seconds, and then turned back to her work.   
A gel-based pen slid along Ziegler’s spiral notebook, taking down results of her current simulation. The biometrics were slightly more intuitive today, and her test subject had been very cooperative, so Ziegler’s mind wandered. She scribbled a number in the margin of the page- The change in her subjects heart rate, positive 24. Where had she seen that before? 24...Yes, that was it. Reyes’ soldier ID number. She wondered what had become of the man who had made himself known as “Reaper”. Was he dead? He’d been dead for a while, actually, but really dead now? 

Sometimes she wondered if what she was doing here, her work, was against some ancient principle of nature. Her research and fieldwork blurred the line between life and death, usually pulling a life back from the other side. Infrequently, it required the push of a different life across that inhuman boundary and into the unknown. Were these actions crimes? Violations against some cosmic contract, treating life and death as variables in an experiment, as a simple check box: Yes/No. Where Angela was involved, these answers changed often. The concept of such radical, scientific yet unearthly resurrections she performed scared her, when she thought about it. But fear was a motivator, fear was nothing but worry for the unknown. And as a scientist, it was her duty to explore that fear, to make the unknown hers, and everyone’s.

No matter. She had a job to do. O’deorain wanted the results sooner rather than later, she was sure. For some reason, Angela couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing the Irish scientist. Some part of her looked up to O’deorain now, all her newfound confidence and glamour, her determination to advance human knowledge, at any cost...Her willingness to take what she wanted, how and when she wanted, knowing it was for the good of everyone involved...Yes, O’deorain was certainly something...

A cold hand clasped Angela’s shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise.

“Good evening, Doctor Ziegler. I trust everything is going well?”

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear, wearing a pristine lab coat over a tight black dress shirt, and purple tie. The fiery red hair stood sharp in her reflection in the window, and Angela looked with admiration- No, longing? At the transparent image of the tall Irish woman standing behind her, sharp purple nails curving down over her shoulder. Angela took a deep breath, again steadying her tone before she spoke.

“Of course, Doctor. The experiment should be done by noon tomorrow. We just need to let the solution settle over night and monitor the saleen levels.”

“Excellent. And the test subjects?”

“Alive and well. There were minor acid burns and one suffered some chemical exposure, but they should both be fully recovered by tomorrow. I am a fairly good doctor, you know.” Angela smiled softly, hoping the line wouldn’t upset O’deorain.

“Yes, you are quite talented, I’m sure.” The tall figure stepped forward, now quite close behind Angela, looking out the window over her shoulder.

The Swiss doctor giggled softly, blushing lightly at the compliment. 

"I aim to please, Doctor.”  
The Irish scientist gazed out towards the sunset, now darker and more purple than pink. Tilting her head just to the right, towards Angela’s ear, O’deorain spoke with just a hint of emotion in her voice, a thin-lipped smile beginning at the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sure you do. You seem like the type who has everyone’s best interest at heart.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

The grip on her shoulder tightened, now ever so slightly kneading the muscle, feeling the muscle in Angela’s neck. Ziegler relaxed her shoulder, subtly leaning into the grip and sighing quietly. Feeling this, the hand traveled further over, now working at her neck.

“You’ve got a lot of tension, Ziegler. Overworked, I imagine?”

“I suppose so...I really don’t get much time off these days…” 

Angela relaxed more and tilted her head forward to allow O’deorain’s probing hand further purchase on her neck, the nails barely grazing her skin in a way she found positively paralyzing.   
“You should relax for a while, Ziegler. Let someone else do the work…” 

Oh god, was that...flirting? This cold-blooded killer, mad scientist, actual criminal...Was she flirting with her? O’deorain was a dangerous woman...Not to mention now a professional colleague. How could she do this? It could cost them both their careers...But this was a very nice feeling, the older woman’s slender fingers rubbing the base of her neck...Maybe just for now, Angela could relax…

“That would be lovely, Doctor.” Her voice communicated her newfound feelings towards O’deorain much more than Angela would have liked.

Adding another hand to Ziegler’s neck, a set of green nails now branching around her throat as well, the former Blackwatch agent smiled, a knowing grin showing sharp, white teeth. Expertly pressing and rubbing her fingers at all the right places across Ziegler’s neck and shoulders, O’deorain’s movements elicited many a sigh of relief and relaxation from Angela. Hearing these, and seeing the shorter doctor’s closed eyes, the hands and nails moved further down and out, working at the tension under Angela’s shirt and bra straps. Ziegler took a deep breath.

“You know...this isn’t very professional…Quite against the rules…”

O’deorain smiled again. “With all due respect, when have I ever cared about rules, Doctor Ziegler?” 

“I suppose you haven’t..But we’d best be careful for our careers sake...”

The Irish doctor raised her eyebrows, and promptly removed her hands from under Ziegler’s shirt. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right. A lapse of judgement. I’ll leave you to study, Doctor.”

Angela smiled. “Oh, no, Doctor, it’s quite alright. As long as we’re cautious... I’m sure everything will be fine.”

O’deorain, deadpan, simply shrugged, readjusted her coat, and turned towards the door, heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.

“I’d best get to filing these reports, I think.”

Something in Angela’s stomach twinged. She’d just meant to come off flirty, not scare O’deorain away. Turning to face the Irish woman, she put as much desire as she could into her voice. 

“Doctor, I-I’m sure it’s fine! Please, don’t go.” She hoped the cute stutter and breathiness of her voice could move something in O’deorain, as Angela was now quite set on feeling what else those long slender fingers could do.

O’deorain’s lip twitched. 

“Care to say that again, Ziegler? Nicely, this time?”

“Please, Doctor! Don’t go, I need you here…”

The twitch became another thin-lipped grin.

“That’s better. You’re sure you want this?’

“Very sure, Doctor.”

“Good. You call me Moira now. No more of this doctor nonsense.”

Now it was Angela’s turn to smile. “Of course, Moira. And you should call me An-”

Her sentence was cut off as Moira swiftly moved forward, pressing Angela up against the window, behind which the purple sunset was rapidly fading to an inky night. A surprised gasp barely had time to escape Angela’s lips before the taller woman’s were just in front of them, teasing Angela’s face and cheeks with her breath. Purple nails traced their way up her throat, lifting her chin so their lips were nearly touching.   
♥


	4. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira won't stop at making Angela's heart flutter. She wants more.

“You’re so perfect, Angela.” The witch’s voice was full of passion, making Angela’s heart flutter in a way she found intoxicating. 

“Moira..-” Her breathy intonation of her new lover’s name was cut short first by the nails digging into her throat, enough to hurt and certainly leave marks, but not enough to draw blood, and then by lips that were surprisingly soft despite their off-peach color. The kiss was direct, full of energy and relief. As they continued, barely stopping to breathe, Moira’s other hand, the one with the green talons, the one not at Angela’s throat in a grip of painful emotion, moved from pinning Angela to the window at her shoulder to holding her close at the waist. 

As if of their own volition, Angela found her hands reaching up to pull Moira towards her. Moira’s lips pulled at Angela’s, a sharp tooth grazing the inside of Angela’s cheek. A tongue, lithe and warm, played just at the edge of Angela’s mouth, as if asking permission. Inhaling Moira's scent, a mix of the fabric of her suit, the clean smell of a laboratory, and a hint of spiced, citrusy perfume (a blend Angela found quite exhilarating), she opened her lips a little more to accept Moira’s tongue. As the pair of scientists slowly grew more passionate- a hand tracing down a back here, a grab at a waist or neck there, and the occasional long, painted nail reaching below some forbidden strap or band, the sun strayed just below the horizon and suddenly night was upon them. Where there had been an orange and purple sunset before, now there was naught but bluish blackness, penetrated only by the gasps and little moans the scientists produced and the soft blue light of Angela’s desk lamp. As far as the women were concerned, this was all for the better. Their bodies melted into the shadows of the room all but urging them to explore each other more in the darkness, to push the limits of what they could get away with in Angela’s lab. 

Breaking away for just a moment, Angela gasped, gazing up at her newfound lover with sapphire eyes filled with wonder and emotion. In kind, Moira looked down at her, smiling. A mix of a protective, kind smile, a loving, wanting expression, and just a hint of a mischievous grin. That smile, unlike any others she’d seen Moira give in meetings, presentations, held a passion that displayed not just on her lips but in the back of her deep blue and orange eyes in a little glint, made something in the pit of Angela’s stomach flutter and her legs shake. She pressed herself against Moira, eyes squeezed shut against the doctor’s suit, and mumbled something even she herself did not quite comprehend. 

Moira chuckled softly, gently running her nails through Angela’s hair. Angela sighed, smiling and leaning fully against the Irish woman. The desk lamp flickered, drenching them in shadow for just a moment.  
“Ah, I really should have done that sooner,” said the taller woman, her features a shadowed swirl.

The light clicked back on.

“Done what sooner, Moira?” replied the shorter, glowing in the lamplight, hair and eyes almost iridescent.  
O'deorain's claw curled around the lamp's switch. A sharp pop, and the bulb was out.  
“Why, you of course.” 

Their lips met a final time in the darkness, and Angela was glad Moira couldn’t see her blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter because finals were this week...But I sort of enjoyed the quicker form idk


	5. 5: A New Life? (Conclusion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and Mercy finally take Ana's advice, and rest for once.

4: A New Life?

\--Overwatch Facility, 2nd Floor, Dublin, 10:34 am--  
5 months into her stay in the facility, Doctor Angela Ziegler was finally starting to get used to the routine. It was repetitive, but the days had rhythm- Wake up, lab coat, makeup, coffee sitting at her desk in her room, watching the morning come into full bloom over the verdant horizon, the sun’s warm orange colliding in a pastel marble with the grey of the clouds, a single moment to center herself before the day’s work began, followed by a few hours of lab work, another of filing and another of organizing for the next day’s, and then..Well, O’deorain always had some other piece of work for her to do…this routine gave her a beat to follow day to day, something she could rely on, and even under the stress of wartime research and walking the tense interpersonal lines she had to between Moira and the rest of Overwatch, she found comfort in it.   
Today though, was different. It was a Sunday, and the coffee at Angela’s lips was sweetened, even had a twist of cream in it she would normally never allow herself, and it came to her late in the morning, not at the break of dawn. She had slept in, she was relaxing. What a strange concept when the world was at war and her work was dedicated to saving as many lives as possible. But, relax she did. 

And oh, was it wonderful. The weeks of hard, mentally straining and physically precise work she had been doing in the Dublin lab had taken a much bigger toll than she had expected, though she hadn’t noticed till Moira pointed out the massive dark circles under her eyes and ungodly amounts of tension in her shoulders. They both needed a day off, and badly. If their work was to save millions of lives, they needed to be in good condition to do it, and months traight of that work certainly didn’t help them maintain their peak physical and mental energy. Angela had been against the idea at first- Obviously their work was bigger, more important than them, but Moira had pushed, calling their regional coordinator and then Captain Amari, explaining their need for a weekend away. For the good of their research, of course. Amari had agreed (Ana was one of the organizations biggest advocates for self-care, much to the chagrin of Morrison and the others, who’s extensive military experience had taught them to serve the cause before all else) and once they’d finished their current assignment of research, they were given a three-day leave from the facility and their responsibilities. 

A buzz from Angela’s mobile. She glanced down, just in time to see the screen light up, displaying a message from M. O’deorain (who’s contact info now included a couple heart emoticons):   
Car’s ready, meet me out front when you are  
Moira was always brief in text, oftentimes stiffly businesslike. Though to Angela, she was often more casual, less robotic. This one didn’t even have a period at the end.   
Something about that made Angela smile.

She downed the rest of her coffee, pulled on her boots and laced them, stood, swung the bag she’d packed over her shoulder and stepped towards the door. On a whim, she turned to the mirror in the washroom to her left, checked herself. No one but Moira would be seeing her today, she hadn’t bothered with makeup. Her hair was tucked up in a messy bun, and a plain light grey sweater hung off her shoulders in a decidedly casual way. Not a great look, she decided. Too late now though, she couldn’t keep the redheaded madcap driving her to a vacation waiting. 

Boots echoed against the floor as she made her way down the halls and elevators of the facility, walking quickly, but not quickly enough to be alarming. Angela wanted no part in interactions with passersby in the corridors right now- She felt...Nervous? Maybe? Some part in the pit of her stomach felt light and shaky, her breathing was quick. Sick, maybe, or anxiety about the project. She hoped she wouldn’t give Moira a cold. Into the elevator, down, down, down, breathe, Angela. What had gotten into her? Out of the elevator, down the hall, security code. She messed it up. 78914-S*? That was this month’s? She tried again. The door slid open, hissing quietly. Out the door, there’s the car. Time to relax, relax. You’re on vacation, damn it, rest up-  
“Alright, Ziegler? You look like a corpse walking.”  
Moira’s voice cut through Angela’s thoughts like a military ship through a layer of ice, making her jump a little as she slid into the transport.  
“Ah, don’t worry about it...doctor…” she trailed off as she tried to clear her thoughts. Moira raised a fiery eyebrow. “If you say so. Take care of yourself, doctor.”

Her tone was even, calculated. Their driver couldn’t know there was anything between them, and Moira was certainly playing the part. Still, something about being addressed so coldly made Angela’s heart sting. She’d been spoiled by weeks and weeks of being alone in her studies with Moira and..at least in private, they were more than casually affectionate. Those moments after hours, or between tests in the lab, stolen kisses and holding each other under the lonely lights in the labs, touches that often hinted at something more.   
Angela shook her head, fighting to keep blush from her face and fantasy from her mind. Not now, not now.

Moira, though, would never pass up an opportunity. From across the back seat of the car, a long nailed finger quickly traced its way up Angela’s thigh before retreating. Angela squirmed, glaring at the other woman. Moira smirked, taking visible pleasure in the reaction she got. 

Already in a slight panic, between Moira’s teasing and hiding her emotions from the driver, Angela mouthed, “not now,”.   
By means of response, Moira gave her another smug eyebrow and a little shake of her head that said “suit yourself,”, turning back to the window to watch the road slide by idly.  
Angela flipped open her phone, tapping a message to captain Amari that they were on their way. She’d be happy to hear that.   
As their transport slid off into the hills, Angela fidgeted in her seat.  
Hopefully, this trip would be a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of lost the energy for this fic a little while ago, and thinking new things up for it became a bit of a chore, so I'm leaving it here. I hope you've enjoyed reading this if you've gotten all the way.


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